


The Butterfly Garden

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Baby Sam Winchester, Big Brothers, Brotherly Love, Childhood Memories, Community: comment_fic, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Fluff, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Trials of Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8021326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: A fill for the comment_fic prompt; any, any +/ any, If the sky that we look upon, Should tumble and fall, Or the mountain should crumble to the sea. I won't cry, I won't cry, No, I won't shed a tear, Just as long as you stand, stand by me (Stand By Me by Ben E. King)





	The Butterfly Garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



Magic cannot fix this. Dean knows that, he has searched through every lore book and spell incantations. This is out of his hands. No amount of magic or kisses will heal Sam. Dean cradles Sam’s cheek in his palm, drawing him nearer to him to press a kiss to his lips. Oh, how he wishes his kisses were magic. 

Sam is sick, weak, he is making that miserable, hissing cry as he chokes up blood, his pale face contorted in a painful, sickening cry. Watching Sam waste away felt like his heart was being split in two. It is a bit of a lost cause; Dean already knows the food on the tray will not be consumed. Still, he tries. He still has hope—that has not been lost yet. He sets the tray on the table and Sam eyes it, considering the nourished meal, yet he grunts and pushes away the food and sits huddled underneath a blanket. 

Well, it’s not like Dean didn’t try. But try being all he can do now, and that is not good enough. He could do the whole airplane thing with the spoon, however, all that would do is earn him is a bitch face from his sibling…His sick sibling who is killing himself by undertaking the trails in order to shut the gates of Hell and lock up every evil bastard that ever ruined their lives. The bloody handkerchiefs, the fever, the shaky legs... this is not good, and Sam is not good and he will not be until the third trial is complete. 

A part of Dean—a big part—is enraged with a God who demands blood—Sammy’s blood—to save the world. Haven’t they given enough? Have they not suffered enough loss and heartbreak? 

Sam goes back to research and Dean gives him space, against his heart’s desire to move in close and do everything and anything to comfort his ill sibling. Most of the day Dean spends cleaning his guns and going over lore books, keeping his mind off thoughts of his brother slipping away from him with every ragged breath. 

A rough, bloody, ragged cough brings Dean back to his brother, Sam is spitting blood into his hand and grunting in agony, and Dean wishes they could go back to simpler times, where his only problem was teaching his little brother to read. ‘Please,’ Dean wishes to anyone who is listening, ‘Take me back to the beginning...’ 

The memories come to him then, rushing over him like waves upon rocks…

For the past nine months John and Mary have had their hands full with their delighted little boy. Dean is very excited about being a big brother and he is eager to meet Sammy. Every day he asks when his brother will be here, to which his proud parents smile fondly and promise “Soon Dean, very soon.” 

Dean is always rubbing Mary’s swollen tummy and talking to his brother, so joyful that he never stops smiling and grins even brighter when he feels Sammy kicking. He’s overwhelmed with happiness and with each day his excitement grows. 

Finally, on the day Sammy arrives, Dean is so ecstatic he cries tears of joy. 

John carries him down the hospital hallways, amused that his boy is sniffling and smiling as brightly as sunny sunshine. The joyful tears quickly subside the closer they get to Sammy’s room and soon Dean is bouncing in John’s arms. “I wanna see Sammy, daddy! Hurry, hurry!” 

John chuckles warmly and quickly walks down the hall. When they make it to the doorway of Mary’s room, he swears Dean squeals with delight. On the bed, Mary sits holding Sammy and Dean’s face lights up when he sees the little bundle nestled in her arms. John took Dean over, letting the boy see his new baby brother. 

Mary grinned sweetly. “Dean, say hello to your little brother, Sammy.” 

“Hi Sammy!” Dean smiled brightly and he began to cry tears of joy once again. Before his parents got the chance to soothe him, to their surprise, the baby made a tiny motion, almost like grabby hands, as if Sammy was trying to reach out to Dean to comfort him. 

With tears still in his eyes, Dean gently took Sam’s little hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. His tears ceased and a beautiful smile lit up his young face when the baby squeezed his hand in return. 

A hand gripping his palm bone tightly brings Dean back to the present. Sam grips his hand even tighter as he coughs violently. Dean moves closer, one hand still trapped in Sam’s embrace and the other gently rubbing his back, soothing Sam through the coughing fit.

His brother convulses violently as he coughs, trickles of blood spilling from his lips. As suddenly as it began, the coughing fit ended, a shiver shook Sam’s body as he leaned towards Dean, who barely caught him in time as he slumped exhaustedly. 

With hooded eyes, Sam collapses into Dean’s arms, breathing roughly and hugging his brother. He feels fragile, too thin and vulnerable to Dean, like a broken angel with shredded wings. Dean weaves his arms around Sam, hugging him to his chest as another memory comes to his mind... 

Little Dean doesn’t like hugs anymore, not since the fire took Mommy. 

Before, Mommy and Daddy were the only people who hugged him, mostly at night after he put on his Batman pajamas and brushed his teeth and it was bedtime. They would sweep him up into their arms and snuggle him like a teddy bear, and he felt a happy tingle in his tummy that made him joyfully giggle and smile brightly.

Now, everyone wants to hug him and he doesn’t like it. 

The nurse at the hospital who smiled kindly as she enveloped him in her arms and sympathetically patted his back after she checked him for burns; He was unharmed because Daddy put Sammy into his arms and told him to take his brother outside and don’t look back and he had not been close to the fire. He had been saved. Mommy died. The nurse was nice, but she wasn’t mommy or daddy, and he did not like the hug. 

The social worker who tries to take Sammy from his arms because she wants to talk to him alone, but he slaps her hand away and clings to Sammy; She gets the point--they will not be separated. Dean really, really doesn’t like her because she asks hurtful questions. 

Did Daddy ever get mad at Mommy? Had Daddy and Mommy ever fought? Did Daddy ever hit Mommy, or wish to cause her harm? Dean tells the truth, no, because Daddy loved Mommy and he would never harm her. Daddy did not start the fire; he did not do this to Mommy. 

She smiles and leans down to hug him, and she's hugging a little too hard and he just doesn’t like it at all.

The waitress at the diner who calls him cute and gives him extra sprinkles on his chocolate ice-cream, not for any reason other than he's holding his tiny baby brother and cuddling Sammy to his chest and protecting him as Daddy sits across the table smiling to keep from crying.

Dean eats his ice cream and he enjoys the yummy treat, it’s delicious, but afterwards she gives him a hug and sort of squishes Sammy between their bodies, and Sammy cries and pounds his tiny fists on Dean's chest, so Dean doesn’t like her because she hugged him and made his little brother cry. 

The man named Bobby, who he knows nothing about, but Daddy seems to trust him, as if they share some secret he doesn’t know about. Bobby is a bit gruff and smells like whiskey, and he is kind and sympathetic, but his hug is awkward and nervous, like he's never been around children before and doesn’t know how to behave around two little wayward tots.

They stay at Bobby's for a few weeks and there is no more hugging, not even from Daddy. Daddy doesn’t sleep much; he spends a lot of time in Bobby's liberty, looking over old books and papers. He is really busy most of the time, so Dean keeps Sammy occupied. 

In the living room, Dean was bouncing a ball across the floor and Rumsfeld was chasing it. Sammy was lying on the bundle of blankets Dean had made for him, safely cushioned between two pillows to keep him from rolling over and maybe getting hurt. 

The baby was happy gurgling and watching as the dog chased after the ball, but when the ball rolled a little too close to Sammy the hulking beast ran right for him, charging at the ball with snapping jaws. 

Sammy was tiny and the sight of a big beast running at him frightened him; he suddenly began wailing, his chubby cheeks streaked with tears as he flailed his tiny fists in the air. Rumsfeld tucked tail and ran out of the room, somehow knowing he was going to get in trouble for making the little human baby cry. 

“Sammy, shhh,” Dean soothed, reaching over and gently picking the baby up and cradling him against his chest. “Don’t cry, Sammy. Rumsfeld won’t hurt you. As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.” 

Sammy cooed softly, sniffling, and to Dean’s surprise, he stopped crying. The baby closed his eyes and gripped Dean’s shirt with his tiny fists, cooing softly as his big brother gently rocked him. Sitting on the floor with Sammy in his arms, Dean snuggled the baby to his chest. Sammy nuzzled his chest, and for the first time in a long time, Dean thought maybe hugs weren’t so bad after all.

The once bone tight embrace loosing tugs Dean back to the present. Realizing that Sam was struggling to get to his feet, wobbling like a newborn colt, Dean quickly tightened his embrace, holding Sam upright. “Come on, little brother,” Dean soothes gently, “Let’s get you to bed. You need to rest.” 

Sam doesn’t have the strength to protest; the trials have left him worn thin, the task of even keeping his eyes open is draining. Holding onto one another, the brothers make it down the hall and into the bedroom and managed to make it into the room without Sam falling to his face, but upon reaching the bed, he hit his knee. 

What normally would be nothing more than a sore shin feels like a severed leg to the ill Winchester; in his fragile, weakened body, Sam nearly tumbles to the floor, gritting his teeth against the severe ache that burns his throbbing knee. 

Even before Dean could second guess his actions, he was pressing a kiss to Sam knee, as if his kisses were magic and could take away the hurt. Gratefully, Sam once tense muscles slowly began to relax, this moment in the present sending Dean's mind back to the past when they were young... 

It happened suddenly, out of the blue. One moment everything was fine and dandy and the next his baby brother was hurt. Sammy was playing on the monkey bars, skillfully swinging from one to the other, when he lost his grip and took a tumble down to the wood chips below. He grits out a sorrowful whimper that nearly breaks Dean's chest. 

Dean was close by, but not enough to stop Sammy from falling. His head jerks up, green eyes widening when he saw ruby red blood smeared across Sammy's knee. Sam is already rising to his feet, his brow furrows as he stands on unsteady legs and go tumbling back down, landing in a heap on the rough wood chips. Sam’s body shuddered as the pain in his knee throbbed. 

He is not a crybaby, but the skin is raw and the wound hurts; he sniffles, bottom lip quivering, the big crocodile tears are trying to tumble down his cheeks, but he quickly brushes them away. 

He is a big boy, like his brother. He is not going to cry. Only he does. The tears streak down his face as he holds his injured leg, his babyish face gazing sadly at his scraped knee. Dean jumps off the swing in a heartbeat, running across the playground and throwing himself onto the ground next to Sam. He dirtied his jeans, but that doesn’t matter. Sammy is hurt. His brother needs him. 

Scooping his little sibling up into his arms, Dean quickly rushes back into the motel across the street. Sammy's got that puppy-dog look on his boyish cute face, and he won’t let go of Dean’s shirt when he tries to set him on the bed, so Dean has to gently pry Sam's fingers free of his faded batman hand-me-down shirt. 

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean promises, gently brushing a kiss to his brother’s forehead. He reaches out with one hand and gently strokes Sam’s hair out of his eyes while the little boy sniffles softly and looks up at him with big, sad damp puppy dog eyes. “Just sit here, I'll get the first aid box.” 

“It hurts, Dee.” A puppy dog whine and big sad eyes meet him, breaking Dean's heart. The few cuts on his knee sting; just looking at the wound makes Dean winces. “I know buddy. Just sit tight; I’m going to patch you up and you'll be good as new.” Dean assures, leaning down to press a kiss to Sam’s forehead. 

Sammy breathes out, closes his eyes, Dean can seem his tense body beginning to relax now that Dean has promised him everything is going to be okay. Dean is a good big brother; he never breaks a promise. 

The first aid kit is stocked with all the tools Dean will need. Sammy is a big brave boy; he chews on his bottom lip, only whining once when Dean rubbed the medication on his sore knee. With a batman bandaged in place, Sammy is patched up, and Dean barely realizes what is happening before Sam is hugging him tightly, declaring "You’re the best big brother in the whole wide world!"

Dean hugs Sam tightly, smiling. It is his job to keep Sammy safe, dad said so, and that is not a responsibility he takes lightly.

That promise, to which he has kept his entire life, sends Dean back to the present. Sam is moving away from him, trying to crawl under the sheet on the bed, groaning as he moves his aching body over the lumpy mattress. Not even having the strength to change into his pajamas, Sam curls up in his jacket and shirt and jeans, bundling up in a tight ball. Dean realizes then how small Sam looks, how weak and feeble, and how much the trials are killing his brother. 

The promise he has kept in his heart wills him to make yet another promise; Sam might be the one preforming the trials, but he will not fight this battle alone. Dean will be at his side, there to protect him and keep him safe. 

That night, with Dean asleep beside him, Sam’s gasping, panting and making broken, crying little breathless sobs, chest heaving painfully as he thrashed in his sleep, shivers as the dark nightmares fade in and out in his mind, bad memories of Dean bloody and bruised and close to death, his life slipping away with every beat of his heart. The hounds of Hell surrounded him, growling with hackles raised and their ruby red eyes glowing like hellfire. 

Sam wakes with a gasp, his face has a slight sheen of sweat on it, and he was holding the blanket tightly around him, trying to dispel the shivers that rushed through his body. His breathing is shallow, fast, and too rough to breathe calmly, body shaking in the dead of night. 

His rough breathing has woken Dean, who curls up beside him, gently brushing his hair out of his eyes. Sam grabs onto Dean, hugs him tight to the point Dean thinks his ribcage will crack. Dean kissed his tears away, shushing him softly. 

Sam cries into his chest, Dean's fingers brushing through his hair in a soothing stroke to help calm him. “Shh, Sammy, it’s okay.” Dean ran his fingertips through his soft hair, presses a sweet gentle kiss to his cheek, he doesn’t pull away, but instead lays down in bed and brings Sam close him, letting his brother laid his head on his chest. 

The bed creaks in the darkness as Sam sobs sorrowfully, the horrific nightmares still playing in his mind; he cannot loose Dean. He needs his brother, even more so now that he has undertaken the trails. Dean is the strength and courage that have kept him going when he feels as if he is going to collapse. 

Dean hugs Sam tightly, his embrace a promise to never let go, and he presses soft kisses to Sam forehead; One little kiss, then another, soft and sweet like candy and silky soft like feathers, he presses kisses to Sam's forehead and holds him close. 

Sam slowly begins to calm under the sensations of Deans lips on his warm skin and the roaming touch of Dean's hands caressing up and down his back. Bad days are sure to come soon, they are facing a daunting task of closing the gates of Hell, but for this moment in time, all is calm and peaceful with Sam laying in Dean’s arms. 

Sam soon slips off to sleep, and doesn’t dream of nightmares or blood or monsters, no trace of hell fire, but instead, of a beloved brother who has always stood by his side, protected him at all cost, and loved him with the purest of heart. 

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for this prompt!](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/802125.html?thread=102655309#t102655309)


End file.
